


Pick Your Battles

by shinodabear



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: 5 Things, Civil War, Earth-3490, F/M, Gender Roles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinodabear/pseuds/shinodabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Natasha Stark didn't adhere to typical gender roles, and the first time she was told she didn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Your Battles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "5 Things" space on my [Cap_ironman](http://cap-ironman.dreamwidth.org/) [bingo card](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v234/Muccamukk/Cap-IM%20Bingo/shinodabear.jpg)

1\.   
She's got a lot of ideas in her head. It's one of the reasons she doesn't sleep at night. Another reason she doesn't sleep at night is because of the man who shares her bed – and not just because of the things they get up to in the dark. She thinks of how to make his armor safer, how he pulls his ball cap down low when they're out in public, how he doesn't pull his punches when they're sparring. She thinks of tomorrow, and the next day, and the year after that. When she thinks of these things, he's always there. 

One afternoon, she has lunch with Reed Richards and returns in a stony mood not even the last sesame bagel can cure. She hides from everyone, even Steve, and refuses to talk about it. She runs the numbers in her lab and knows that this is it. She doesn't even fool herself into trying to sleep that night. Steve goes to bed without her.

One day, he might not be there. She knows what she has to do. She knows what she wants to do. 

It's just past three when she enters their bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. She waits for him to stir awake and then asks, "What do you think of making this thing permanent?" 

Steve rises up on his elbows. "You mean like--"

"Yeah." She nods twice, then tilts her head towards him. It may not be a textbook proposal, but she rarely does anything by the book. It's one of the things about her that drives Steve crazy -- in both good and bad ways.

"Oh," Steve says, and then, "Yes."

Tomorrow looks just a bit brighter. 

2\.   
She'd given a press interview and announced that she'd be designing her own dress. She didn't lie; not exactly. 

"It's perfect," Natasha boasts as she turns in front of the mirror, even though all of her usual confidence has been checked at the door (it's her _wedding_ , that dirty seven-letter word she'd sworn off since always.)

"It's hideous," Pepper throws back at her. 

Natasha hadn't expected anything else from one of the few attendees without a costume to wear. "It's me."

She sees the exact moment when Pepper relents and accepts and then, finally, when she understands. "At least put on a veil," she says and picks up her bouquet. Natasha plans on aiming for Rhodey. 

She puts on a veil only because she knows it will make Steve smile. 

The papers think it's ridiculous that she wore her Iron Woman suit instead of a wedding dress. It's funny how no one notices that Steve was in costume, as well. Not in military dress, not in a handsome tux, not even a Sears and Roebuck suit. He's Captain America. She's Iron Woman. That's who they are. That's who they all are: superheroes, every last one of them until the day they die. It's her quiet stand against the hate groups; solidarity is what they need right now. She believes in the Registration because it's the only way the numbers don't hurt and she was prepared for it ever since King Arthur's Court. This is her stand. No matter what happens, they will always be heroes. 

No matter what happens, they will always be Iron Woman and Captain America. They will always be Natasha and Steve. Til death do them part. 

 

3\.   
Their honeymoon is spent in Washington. DC, not the state. It's not spent visiting museums or attractions or fancy restaurants. It's spent in offices and lobbies and, currently, one of the many hallways in the White House. It's their honeymoon, and she's busy working. She's going over the specs of a merger with a rival tech company on her Starktablet while Steve is reading magazines. There weren't any magazines in the waiting area with the last guy. Natasha finds it amusing for about all of three seconds and then Pepper begins texting her. The merger'd been moved up three days unexpectedly. 

Natasha's looking over the specs and Steve is reading a magazine and it's their honeymoon. She blames Reed. The implementation of Registration Act is about to go public and the Fifty State Initiative needs drafting. Today's meeting is to advise the president to sign it into law. Reed thinks she can get through to him. Reed just doesn't want to do it himself. He's a good man, at the heart of it, and a brilliant scientist, but people are one thing that Reed can't do. People, it just so happens, are Natasha's specialty. She can wine and dine the best of them. 

She still hasn't told Steve. 

"They're calling for you to retire, you know. Hang up the cowl. Figuratively. Says you should stay home and cook my meals." 

"What are you reading?" Natasha pushes the cover up of the magazine in her hands to read the title. "What's that doing in the White House?"

Steve shrugs. He never cared for petty politics. 

She knows the answer before she asks, but she sees an opportunity and she takes it. "Do you want me to?" 

"We've talked about this before," he answers at first, rushed and harried. Then, more quietly, as he leans forward to be closer to her. "A family. . . would be very difficult with the way things are." 

When she is still silent, he adds, "Not that I'd ask you to stop being Iron Woman, ever, for children. So long. So long as it was safe." 

The attendant turns the doorknob and Natasha stands before the door swings open. "It can be. And it will be." She holds out her hand. "Come in with me."

He thinks she's there to discuss the Maria Stark Foundation's charity ball, but she's done taking on this thing alone. She's a married woman now, and she's a working woman. She's on her honeymoon. Shouldn't they be doing this together?

 

4\.   
No one, absolutely no one, can ever be excused for calling her Mrs Rogers. She is Natasha Constance Stark. Not Natasha Rogers. Not Natasha Stark-Rogers. Natasha. Stark. She's fought too long to earn that name only to give it away. So when Peter greets her at the diner with a glib, "Nice of you to finally show up, Mrs. Rogers" she lays into him. She places her knuckles on her hips and leans back with her chin held high so that, even though Peter is already sitting, her gaze down at him is all the more harsh. 

"Do you know what taking the husband's name signifies?" she asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "Transference of property. Back in the day, like the Middle Ages, the girls belonged to their father, right? They had their father's name. When they got married, they and their dowry went to the husband's family and so to show that the girl now belonged to her husband, she took his name. She'd no rights, no social standing, nothing except by that name. Like cattle branding. I'm not being branded by Steve." 

Peter's shoulders sink and he finds something extremely interesting in his coffee mug. She belatedly remembers how much coaxing it took to get him to even take her phone calls again, never mind agree to meet him for lunch. Her hands fall to her sides and she considers apologizing. Peter speaks first. 

"But you're okay with still being owned by your father?" he says, still looking into his coffee. If it weren't for the small upturn of the corner of his mouth, she would've had a few more words for him. It may not have been the right tone, but it was the trademark Parker wit. She'd allow it. 

She folds herself into the booth calmly. Peter still won't look at her. 

She wonders how badly the Registration Act has been weighing on his mind. He's told her his opinion, more than once, and she understands his fears for Mary Jane, Aunt May, and even himself, but she needs Peter on her side. They all do. She wonders if she should have brought Steve. 

A waitress comes over and takes her order. Peter declines food, but asks for another coffee. The waitress disappears and Natasha frowns. "This is a lunch date, Pete. You know what lunch is?" 

He shifts uncomfortably once again. "Shouldn't you be, I don't know, having lunch with Janet or Sue or someone else?"

She arches an eyebrow at him. "Some other married woman you mean?"

"Well--"

"I like you, Peter. Shut up and take that compliment." 

He looks up at her, making eye contact for the first time. When it's just her and him, no big ideas between them, things are a lot easier. He returns the tentative smile she offered when he looked at her and sinks back more comfortably into the booth. "You always make me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside," he tells her; then, "You're gonna be one hell of a mother." 

"So I need to have kids now?"

His throws his hands into the air in an immediate "I'm innocent" gesture. "Jeez! No! I don't know! Can I say anything around you lately?"

She leans back, placing an arm over the top of the booth seat. "Nod and smile, Parker. Works for Steve. Now order a damn cheeseburger before you starve."

 

5\.   
She buys him things because she likes to see him happy. People like getting things, don't they? She buys Mary Jane and Aunt May nice things, too, because that's what family does for family. Peter, he's the closet thing she'll ever get to a son, and if _anyone_ were to know that she'd deny it and sue for libel. 

She and Steve have talked about kids in all the words expect the ones that are: "I want kids" and "Let's change the world for our children." These things are understood, in a way. The Avengers are their children. All the heroes are their children. Peter's referred to them on more than one occasion as mom and dad (She's always been dad. She's more fun.) And, really, what would she possibly do with a lump of wriggly, crying, pooping flesh? She's horrible when people cry. She never knows what to do. 

She doesn't need Sue to give her that _look_ when Steve helps her son with his homework. They're not having kids. That's that. 

"You'll change your mind someday," they tell her. What she doesn't tell them back is that she's too busy fighting for there to even _be_ a "someday." It is an uncertain time for superheroes, mutants, and humans alike. If they're not careful, if someone isn't watching over them, it could all blow up in their faces. Someday, they'll thank her. 

 

+1   
"You'll thank me someday," her mother tells her when she's still kicking inside Maria's belly. Maria is painting the nursery today, a yellow and white scheme. The clothes she's bought are all yellow, white, and green. She's always wanted a daughter, but damn it all to hell if she'll let her child be judged less for it. Howard didn't even bother to hide his disappointment when they found out the sex. Maria has been waging war ever since. 

"It doesn't matter what you're born with," she tells her daughter, "it's what you do with what you're given. "


End file.
